


Iodine and Stitches

by alwaysthrowsscissors



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sam Winchester, Bottoming from the Top, Caretaking, Codependency, Comfort Sex, Coming Untouched, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Fear of Losing Each Other, First Aid, Gentleness, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Prompt Fill, Protective Sam Winchester, Riding, Shower Sharing, Sibling Incest, Stitches, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, ow my heart, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysthrowsscissors/pseuds/alwaysthrowsscissors
Summary: The shock of almost losing each other weighs heavily on Sam and Dean after a very close hunt. Both are badly banged up and Sam knows that if he doesn't let an overprotective Dean take care of him, he will lose it. Once Dean is satisfied that Sam is going to be ok, it's Sam's turn to take care of his stubborn big brother, stitching him up and keeping him close and comforted.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 303
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Fall 2020





	Iodine and Stitches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishura/gifts).



> Written for the SPN Masquerade Fall 2020 round.
> 
> Special thanks to wearingdeantoprom for the beta and to outoftheashes for once again putting up with my angst!

Sam allowed Dean to support him through the door of the motel room and onto one of the small twin beds, the battered first aid kit was thrown beside him. Safely tucked into Baby, Sam’s heart had stopped pounding several miles from wherever was home for the night. His brother, on the other hand, was incredibly pale in stark contrast to the blood splattering his solemn face. As Dean went to lock the door, swiping a shaking hand through his hair, Sam pulled off his jacket and flannel, wincing. Hopefully nothing was broken but Dean wouldn’t leave him alone long enough to check.

“Hands up, Sammy,” he demanded.

“Dean I’m ok, you’re the one who’s bleed-”

“I said hands up.” Dean fixed him with a fierce glare; he was not to be argued with tonight. Not that he could ever be argued with when Sam was this banged up. He did as he was told, gingerly holding his arms over his head for Dean to gently tug his shirt off. He didn’t need Dean to undo his jeans and pull them down, but it was always easier to just let him. Sam inhaled sharply as Dean tugged his shoes off, pain jolting through his sore ankle like a shock of electricity.

Goosebumps rippled over his skin now as he sat on the edge of his bed in his boxers. Dean noticed immediately -of course he did- interrupting his first aid preparation to turn the radiator up. His single-mindedness was unflappable when they had such a brutal hunt. From start to finish, they were in over their heads, harsh beatings, too many close calls, barely getting away with their lives.

Dean sat at Sam’s feet and carefully lifted his ankle to investigate. His peeled down sock revealed an angry, stormy mess, and when Dean gently rotated his foot, he jumped and clenched his teeth. Deft fingers pressed into his skin, assessing the bone and ligaments below like how their dad taught them a lifetime ago.

“Doesn’t feel broken Sammy, probably sprained though.” Dean softly stroked Sam’s calf, a gesture juxtaposed with his authoritarian demeanor.

Sam nodded, jaw tight. Fuck, at least a week off his foot. Dean rose onto his knees, resting his hands on Sam’s bare thighs, scrutinizing his torso. Sam bit back a ‘Dean I’m fine.’ He knew Dean needed to do this, he knew that behind that furrowed brow and severe gaze was fear, worry, and probably guilt since Dean always got it into his head that if Sam got hurt it was somehow his fault. All he could do was watch Dean’s eyes and let relief wash over him that his brother was here in front of him, reminding himself no one was coming, no one followed. Dean reached out and began palpating bruises that he found, feeling underneath. Sam winced away from his hand once fingertips landed on his ribcage.

“Sit still,” Dean ordered, pressing in harder, testing the bone. “Just bruised.” Dean let his hand relax and smooth tenderly over Sam’s sore ribs and up his chest, thumb tracing his collarbone as his hand stroked over his pecs, resting for a moment over his heart. Sam closed his eyes, smiling softly. Even under assessment, Dean’s touch was warm and soothing like a tonic. He reached out a hand to cup his brother’s cheek, wanting to feel the press of his lips against his, to show him that he’s ok, but Dean tilted his head away from his reach.

“Not done.” Still that gruff tone; he wasn't satisfied yet.

Dean stood and ran his fingers down Sam’s back. Goosebumps that had nothing to do with coldness, chased after his touch. He then took each hand in turn, pulling and rotating to check his arms. Dean huffed a sigh, patting Sam’s shoulder as his brow relaxed a bit; he must not have found anything severe. “Get into the shower and then I’ll treat those cuts, and wrap your ankle, ok?”

“Only if you come in with me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“To keep me steady, cause of my ankle,” Sam added, trying to hide the fact that he was just as concerned about whatever injuries were lurking behind Dean’s flannel and stubbornness. Dean nodded curtly and began stripping off his clothes. When his tattered, black t-shirt hit the floor, Sam gasped; Dean was sporting a long, jagged gash across his ribcage.

“Jesus Christ, Dean!” He eyed the blood still lazily oozing from the deepest pit of the wound.

“S’fine, let’s just get your ass in the bathroom.” Dean shrugged before shucking off his shoes and pants and putting Sam’s arm around his shoulder to help him to the shower.

**

Every muscle relaxed deliciously as the hot water poured over Sam’s back. Unsurprisingly, Dean had pushed Sam under the showerhead first, taking the opportunity to double check his body. Sam unwrapped the little motel bar soap and started scrubbing himself down under Dean’s scrutiny. When he was done, Dean grabbed the soap and spent extra time washing the cuts on his forearms and his bruised ribs. He then bent down and lathered up Sam’s injured ankle. Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth; his brother looked so good naked and crouched, water clinging to his long lashes as he concentrated on getting Sam’s skin clean for bandaging. The sight of him like that grounded Sam, nothing to hide from one another, boxed into the small shower so that he can’t evade him. When he stood, he inspected Sam’s face and ran a soapy thumb over his split lip.

“Looks like it hurts,” Dean said softly, rinsing off his hand to swipe the soap away. The fear in his eyes had softened. Immediate threat gone, a sadness had settled in. Somber green surrounded by bright red that was hopefully from the enemy. Dean gave Sam a taste of what he wanted and pressed warm lips delicately against the cut.

“It’s not so bad,” Sam murmured, shifting his weight and wrapping his arms around him. Dean finally allowed Sam’s touch, face tucked tightly against his neck. He squeezed back hard, clinging like Sam was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Sammy, back there...I thought,” his brother stopped, likely hearing the shakiness in his own voice.

“I know...me too. It was a close one. We’re here, we’re safe.” Dean shook his head as if he didn't believe it as Sam rubbed his palm up and down his back, his strong body shaking despite the heat of the water splashing over them. Sam slowly rotated until Dean was under the stream. Dean sighed heavily not letting go until Sam took the soap from his grip and began washing his brother’s back.

“I’ve got it Sam.”

“Shush.” Sam held his hand back from Dean’s reach as he grabbed for the soap. “Would you just let me?”

“Fine, but just this once.”

Finally, Sam could begin an assessment on the body he knew almost better than his own. He pulled away and inspected Dean’s torso as he scrubbed, looking for any strange bruising that would indicate internal bleeding, pressing here and there to feel organs or bones. His face looked banged up. He had a nasty cut along his cheekbone and he was probably going to have quite the shiner come morning. Dean stood stoically under the water but his face betrayed him once Sam got soap in his open wound.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean hissed, baring his teeth.

“I have to clean it, who knows what shit was on whatever cut you.”

“One of them came at me with a big scrap of metal.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened in shock. Judging by the raggedness of the gash, it must have been one mangled piece of metal and Dean must be hurting badly. It was true that humans were sometimes the worst type of monster. His mind lurched back to the old rotting house they thought was a vamp nest. The reek of black mould, pupils stinging as they strain to adjust to semi-darkness, getting jumped in the labyrinth of hallways, fists hitting flesh and bone, losing sight of Dean, hearing him grunt and yelp in pain. Then worse, silence. Dread, blind fear. Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, rubbing away the quiver that was threatening his bottom lip.

“C’mon, you about done here?” Dean swatted Sam’s hands away, and plopped a glob of shampoo on top of Sam’s head, dragging him back to the safe, steamy present. He finished cleaning the wound, ignoring Dean’s grumbling, and turned him around so that the spray hit his chest. Sam pressed against his brother and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling into his solid frame, watching the water run red under their feet.

**

Sam was barely toweled dry before Dean was pushing him back down on the bed, bare ass hitting the scratchy comforter. He began meticulously wrapping his ankle. The pressure of the bandage immediately gave Sam relief and he was so damn appreciative of the beautiful man by his feet he had to will himself not to pounce on him.

“How’s that Sammy? Not too tight?” Dean asked, patting Sam’s thigh.

“S’perfect, thanks Dean.”

Dean shrugged the gratitude off. He was funny that way, never accepting thanks or praise. Sam knew it was because Dean saw this as his job, the life long task unfairly set by their dad. Take care of Sammy, keep him safe, make sure he’s not hurt. Looking down at his brother’s tired eyes, now making sure each cut and scrape had a thin layer of antibacterial ointment squeezed out of a pinched, shriveled tube, Sam felt a wave of his own guilt. His heart ached that Dean burdened himself so much by this perceived role of protective older brother; Sam’s hero. Sam didn’t need that anymore, but no matter how old and capable he got, Dean couldn’t let go. Most times, it made him rabid, pigheaded, surly, and fucking patronizing.

It was times like this, when the threat of losing his little brother was so great that the pain was etched all over his face, fear carved into his posture, that Sam had to concede there was no reasoning with him. He just had to allow it until his brother was satisfied and settled.

“Ok, you’re all fixed up.” Dean stood, a smile cutting creases around his eyes for the first time that evening. He then grabbed a bottle of whiskey out of his bag and was about to splash the liquid over his chest when Sam hopped up on his good foot to stop him.

“Don’t be stupid, we have supplies!”

“This is as good as anything else.” Dean raised an indifferent brow at him.

“Just fucking sit.” Sam pushed Dean onto the bed by the shoulder and started by placing two small butterfly bandages along Dean's cheekbone, kissing him softly to stem any protest. Dean huffed a sigh, but said nothing. His ribs would be more difficult.

“It needs stitches,” Sam said, mirroring Dean’s caretaking stance between his brother’s knees.

“Sam, it's fine, would you stop fussing over me?”

“Fuck no, it's way too deep. Just sit up straight and stop your bitching, will ya?”

Dean rolled his eyes while Sam rummaged in the old, metal medical tin. He found the suture kit and several used-up tubes of ointment.

“Well, we’re going old-school tonight. I wonder how long we’ve had this,” Sam said shaking a bottle of iodine.

“Judging by the label, it's been around since the bicentennial.” Sam’s dimples made an appearance at the sound of Dean snorting laughter. It was the sweetest music after hours of his protective, bossy tone, his gruff aggression masking his fear. Sam doused a compress with the thick, brown fluid and carefully dabbed Dean’s wound.

“Ok, sit still, this is going to hurt,” Sam said firmly, as he threaded the needle.

“No shit Sammy, this ain’t my first rodeo. Just do it.”

Dean inhaled sharply, hissing through his teeth from the first poke into his skin. Sam tugged the needle through, catching the other side of the wound and tying off the stitch neatly. He continued, listening carefully to Dean’s breathing, making sure he wasn’t pushing him too far with the pain. His brother was breathing steadily, deeply, jaw set, fists balled in the comforter. Sam’s knees were singing from the cement floor under the thin carpeting, but he would have gladly knelt there for hours if it meant mending his big brother.

“You’re being so good, Dean.” Sam paused to kiss him gently across the chest, free hand stroking his thigh. Dean let out a breathy little sound of pleasure and all the hairs stood up on the back of Sam’s neck. He reluctantly pulled away and continued closing the wound. He counted thirty-five sutures in all when he was finished.

“Lucky it was me and not you, your stitches have always been prettier,” Dean murmured, tipping Sam’s chin up with his thumb, fingers curled gently under. Bending forward, Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s forehead. Sam cupped Deans jaw and kissed him softly on his cheek, his eyelid, his nose, rubbing his scruff with the blade of his thumb, a lovely, pleased flush blooming under the freckles.

Dean caught Sam’s lips with his, causing the familiar plunge in his belly. And he wanted more, relief changing into need, kissing harder, deeper. Dean was against him solid and real, fresh stitches prickling into Sam’s chest, lips lighting a fire within him as Dean’s mouth became hungrier. He slid his hand under the towel wrapped around Dean’s waist and found that the sting of his needle and the gentleness of his lips had made Dean half hard.

“I’m going to take care of you Dean,” Sam husked, thinking about the weight of Dean’s cock on his tongue as he unwrapped Dean’s towel and sat back on his good ankle. He slowly ran his mouth and tongue up Dean’s thighs making his way to his now bobbing cock. Licking a hot, wet trail along the thick vein under Dean’s cock, he lapped at the head making it shine invitingly. He teased Dean with soft licks until Dean’s hands grabbed his hair, pulling him down. Sam allowed Dean’s dick deep inside, sliding to the back of his throat.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean moaned as Sam sucked his cock hard and steady, letting his stretched lips pull tightly up and down his shaft. He felt his brother slowly come undone, thighs shaking around Sam’s ear’s, his whole upper body bowed forward, hands roaming all over Sam’s back, arms, wherever he could reach.

“Sammy, come here,” Dean panted, “I want you with me.”

Sam pulled his mouth off his brother. “I’m right here, I’m with you.” He looked up, searching Dean’s face and he looked stricken. He was tugging at Sam under his arms, trying to get him close, get him to understand.

“I haven’t bandaged you yet.”

“I don’t fucking care. Please Sam.”

Sam stood and pressed a hand to Dean’s chest, indicating to him to move back on the bed. He laid on top of him, stretching his weight out like he knew Dean loved when he felt insecure. Their full cocks pressed together as Dean squeezed him tightly, enveloping his mouth with his lips, licking between his teeth to find Sam’s tongue. Arousal and relief seeped out of Dean in waves along with something harder to pin down. A yearning to be close, to consume, to smother and be smothered, to never be apart again. Dean’s brow was stitched as tightly as his wound, hands rough and needing; his brother owned every inch of Sam.

“Dean, lick your fingers and touch me.” At once, Dean’s hand was at his kiss-flushed mouth, sucking his fingers while Sam watched, lips parted.

Those capable fingers that had explored his body for injury, began stretching his hole greedily, one finger at a time. Once Sam was rutting his cock against his brother’s as Dean fucked his fingers into him, he reached to grab the lube from the nightstand and straddled Dean’s hips. Slicking up Dean’s cock, squeezing and stroking him a couple times, then lifting onto his knees and sinking his ass around it until he was fully seated and moaning.

He sat for a moment, cock throbbing, hole clenching around the divine intrusion and then began lifting himself up and down, fucking himself on his brother’s cock. His hands slid down his own chest and stomach onto Dean’s, lighting up his skin, grazing his nipples, making them hard.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, big brother.”

“Ride me baby, yes,” Dean groaned, hands reaching out to roam over Sam, swiping through the speckled blood from his stitches, landing on Sam’s rising and falling hips. Sam squeezed Dean hard inside of him as he rode him, making Dean’s head tip back, eyes rolling to white, stubbled throat exposed.

Sam picked up the pace, feeling pleasure tight and hot in his stomach, swollen cock dripping and throbbing. Dean fisted it and stroked him hard and rough, making Sam’s rhythm falter.

Sam flicked his hand away. “No Dean, you first.”

“Come here, come close,” Dean repeated, pulling Sam flush with him again. He gripped his hips hard, fucking his cock up into his ass. He was full and whole with his brother alive and well, deep inside him. Slamming up against him solid and real, Sam repeated to himself _you didn’t lose him, you didn’t lose him, you didn’t lose him._ Sam clenched around him again hard, raising himself up and down against Dean’s thrusts, wanting to push him over the edge.

“Oh fuck, come in me!”

Dean came moments later, shouting his brother’s name.

“Your turn,” Dean rasped, undone, slamming his cock into Sam’s ass, chasing his aftershocks. The close sticky heat, Dean’s ragged breath on his mouth, his thick cock stretching him deeply. Sam was pushed hard and fast towards climax, trapping his come between their stomachs as he cried out and whined.

He squeezed Sam tight, placing kisses on his slick temple, cheek, shoulder. Once his breathing returned to normal, Sam extricated himself to pull off of Dean’s cock and lay on his back. He patted his chest; a gesture for Dean to join him. His brother took his rightful place snuggled up against him, head rested on his chest over Sam’s beating heart. Dean’s long lashes grazed his skin as his eyes shut tight, listening.

This is how Dean could fully let go and trust that Sam was safe. How he could finally become calm, soothing his fight or flight down. He needed his Sammy clean, warm, satiated and, most importantly, close. But Sam needed it too. Dean’s possessiveness was Sam’s possessiveness, Dean’s relief was his relief, his neediness Sam’s neediness. Both were sides of the same coin. Incomplete and lost without the other.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the rough draft before the finale and edited it after and felt VERY DIFFERENTLY about what I had written :'( just fully hurting my own feelings with this shit! I hope you liked it. If so, please hit me up with some lovin'.
> 
> Full prompt:
> 
> Sam knows Dean likes to take care of him. Even after hunts, he makes sure Dean does his mother henning and patching him up before taking care of himself. Sam lets him do it, because if he doesnt, Dean gets antsy. But after Dean is done, Sam takes care of him, cleans him, showers with him and lets Dean rest his head over his heart, only way Dean manages to sleep after a rather close hunt. Sex or no sex, both is fine, basically boys taking care of each other, Dean overly protective, Sam doing all the same sneakily.
> 
> Like I'd leave out sex ;)


End file.
